Why do bad things happen to good people? The question has been pondered for millennia. But I have another question: Why do good people do bad things?
The ancient story of Job deals with both questions.
The first question gets all the attention. It's the question Job demands an answer to but never receives. Job's friends are pretty sure they know the answer: it was something Job did.
I don't know that I was taught this, but I grew up thinking Job's friends were not really friends. They were mean and thoughtless, "miserable comforters," as Job says at one point. But that's not the whole story.
When they arrive, they spend seven days in silence just being there with and for Job. These are committed friends. They aren't bad guys. And just because Job sometimes berates them does not mean he doesn't care for them. He berates, yet honors, God too.
Job's friends are good guys and true friends.
I recently heard a story on The Moth Radio Hour about a grandchild's love for his grammy, who also loved him dearly but was less than purely good. It's too easy to know one aspect of a person and decide that they are either good or bad.
We are all bad guys; we are all good guys. The line between good and evil runs through every human heart, says Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. Good guys do bad things. One of the qualifications for sainthood, I think, is an insistence that one is not saintly (I admit limited knowledge on this subject; perhaps canonization sometimes allows for arrogance). Good guys ought to recognize their failures. But sometimes the worst part of bad behavior is a conviction that it is righteous.
Job's friends are pious and certain about what God wants and how and why God does things. They know that if you have problems it's your fault and God is punishing you. It's their duty to warn their friend about this and set him straight.
It seems this very piety is what pisses God off. We don't realize it while they are arguing. We think, hey these guys have a point. They know their theology. When God scolds Job at length for impertinence without addressing the friends, I suspect they nod in agreement and feel justified for their judgment. Only after God tells off Job for thinking he understands what he doesn't, only then do we find out that God's bigger beef is with the friends; Job must pray for them to prevent their ruin.
Job is honest. He has the chutzpah to express his deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings. His friends, on the other hand, say what they think God wants them to say. And that's their sin! Finally God turns to the friends: "I am angry with you, because you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has."
What?! Us? No, you don't underst... (gulp). Surprise ending.
Job's friends, good guys that they are, repent. They make their sacrifices. They eat their crow. They are not dealt with according to their folly.
When most certain that we are proclaiming God's will, we most need humility. We might well be full of folly.